


The Falling Star

by fire_ash_rebirth



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Astronomy, Canon Era, F/F, Feelings, Grief/Mourning, Make Them Gay You Goddamn Cowards, Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_ash_rebirth/pseuds/fire_ash_rebirth
Summary: “They only ever become constellations after they’ve died.” Maria noted, dropping her arms back to the ground. The two women lay side by side, skin feeling glued together with sweat and humidity in the places that touched.Carol hummed, a softer echo of the droning screams that filled the air, “When I die, I’d much rather become a shooting star. Sounds much more exciting.”
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Maria Rambeau & Monica Rambeau, Carol Danvers/Maria Rambeau, Maria Rambeau & Monica Rambeau
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

On hot summer nights, the air clings to the skin, to the insides of the lungs with every breath. It is heavy and still, almost smothering. Maria and Carol lay on their backs, staring up at the patch of stars visible through the branches as the trees screamed and the breeze refused to blow. Ostensibly, they were learning the stars to improve their navigation skills. However, that justification was flimsy at best, and would quickly dissolve if any of their fellow cadets were to be asked.

Lines were traced between stars by fingertips visible only the light they blocked, dark silhouettes against the night sky. Constellations were named and stories told, of Andromeda, of Cepheus, of Orion, of the twins Castor and Pollux. Legends of heroes and tragedies, lives lived, whispered into the night air, suspended like droplets of water.

“They only ever become constellations after they’ve died.” Maria noted, dropping her arms back to the ground. The two women lay side by side, skin feeling glued together with sweat and humidity in the places that touched.

Carol hummed, a softer echo of the droning screams that filled the air, “When I die, I’d much rather become a shooting star. Sounds much more exciting.”

“Of course you would. Not even death could get you to sit still.” In the absence of a breeze, their shared laughter can be felt.

Now, when Maria thinks back to that night, she almost wishes she had reached out and plucked it from the air, like some tangible thing she could hold close. Something she could have kept safe, when she couldn’t do the same for Carol.

The evening after Carol’s plane crash, Maria found Monica laying on the grass where Carol once had, looking up at the night sky, Carol’s jacket around her shoulders despite the heat. “We learned about the constellations at school today.” Monica’s voice was hushed, but audible. Tonight, the trees were silent, though their screams still echoed in Maria’s heart.

“Is that so?” Maria hoped her voice was steady, but her hopes were not very high.

In the absence of cicada song, Maria could hear the rustle of hair against grass as Monica nodded. “According to my teacher, the stories say all the constellations were people or animals that got turned into stars after they died.” There was a pause, and the question rested on Monica’s tongue until she found the words to ask it, “Do you think Aunt Carol became a constellation?”

When Maria lay down on the grass next to her daughter, she could feel the dampness of the grass through her shirt. Above the pair, the stars were tiny pinpricks of light against the void of space. Each one so small the darkness threatened to snuff it out, yet somehow the collective remained constant. Maria was struck with the notion that if one of them were to blink out, the rest would surely follow. She took a breath. “Your Aunt Carol would hate being a constellation- too quiet, too boring. She’d be a shooting star, burning bright and flying faster than anyone.”

They sat like that a while longer, with the night all around them and an ache in their hearts. That night, the stars were unmoving. No streaks of fire and rock flashing across the sky. Eventually, Monica fell asleep in the grass, and Maria got up to bring her inside. After tucking her in, Maria returned to the porch for one last look at the stars. The stars twinkled back.

It was a week later, as Maria sitting on the porch reading, that Monica yelled excitedly and grabbed her by the arm. “Mom! Look! A shooting star!” And sure enough, a trail of light raced across the sky, disappearing out of sight.

“I hope Aunt Carol is going somewhere exciting.” Monica remarked, letting go of Maria at last.

  
Maria smiled softly, “Oh, I’m sure she is.”


	2. Chapter 2

Soon, it became a habit. Whenever Maria or Monica saw a shooting star, they’d point it out and ask the other where they thought Aunt Carol was going that night. It became a game, to think up the wildest answers; Mars to meet the Martians, France to get some cheese, Egypt to visit the pyramids, the moon to get some more cheese. Over time, the pain of loss didn’t disappear, but instead mellowed and mixed with the humor and the memories. 

It became second nature to keep one eye on the sky to watch for shooting stars whenever they were outside at night. They would lay out on the grass, the two of them, and Maria would tell Monica all the constellation stories she could remember. When she ran out, she would tell stories about Carol. Monica started reading about the stars for herself and soon enough started telling stories of her own, about how stars came into being and how they left. About black holes and meteor belts and which stars were actually planets. About the possibility of life out there, somewhere. 

Each evening, Maria would listen to Monica excitedly recall what she had learned and would stare up at the stars. When a shooting star would pass by, she’d call out silently: _I wish you could be here for this. I wish you were here to watch her grow up. I wish you were here so I could hold you one more time._ But the stars only twinkled back, silently. 

“Aunt Carol is passing by again.” Monica called out from the porch, where she was stargazing with the telescope she’d gotten that Christmas, a book on astronomy checked out from the library open beside her. 

Maria looked up from her book, “Where do you think she’s going this time?”

There was no response for a moment, as Monica squinted through the telescope. “I’m not sure, the trajectory is pretty weird.” 

Maria hummed and went back to her reading, only for Monica to call out a few moments later. Maria turned to watch through the window as Monica jumped up and waved at her excitedly. “What is it?”

“Come look! Come look!” Monica motioned frantically, out of time with the lazy blinking of the fireflies. 

By the time Maria made her way outside, the sky was on fire. This was no comet, but a falling star lighting up the night with an otherworldly glow. Maria grabbed Monica, pulling her towards the porch even as she knew that no roof could protect them from such an impact. It was all she could do to hold her daughter close and do her best to hold back tears and laughter at the irony of it all; she had lost Carol when she fell from the sky, and now the sky was falling on them. She braced for impact.

The wind whispered through the leaves. The crickets played in chorus. The fireflies danced like sparks in the grass, in the trees. Maria could hear every heartbeat as blood rushed in her ears. But there was no impact. 

Instead, the falling star seemed to slow as it descended until the vague outline of a human form was discernible. The radiant energy pulsed briefly, before fading as the figure neared the ground. By the time the figure touched down, there was only a faint glowing aura. 

“Mom? What’s going on? Who is that?” Monica whispers were muffled further from being pressed against Maria. 

But though the outline of a form was visible, the figure’s glow only served to backlight and obscure any features from view. “Who are you?” Maria called out, but received no reply.

The figure stepped forward into the light of the porch and suddenly Maria couldn’t breathe. “Carol?”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Falling Star, by Sara Teasdale
> 
> I saw a star slide down the sky,  
> Blinding the north as it went by,  
> Too burning and too quick to hold,  
> Too lovely to be bought or sold  
> Good only to make wishes on  
> And then forever to be gone


End file.
